tiny stitches

A few weeks ago now, I received Alicia Paulson's lovely little cross stitch kit, Winterwoods ABC Sampler. Excitedly, I unwrapped all the parts and pieces. Diligently, I sorted and labeled all the floss colors. It's been years and years - since high school, I remembered - since I last did any cross stitch. This pretty little sampler seemed like just the thing to bring into winter with me.

As I dove into the sampler, I realized just how much was different since high school, since the last time I picked up a project like this. Most importantly, Alicia pulled some seriously beautiful materials (the verigated floss is just yummy) together with her gorgeous design, making it far nicer to work with than the craft store materials I remember using back in the day. And while my "free time" may be less these days than it was then, balancing that out quite nicely is that almost twenty years later (really?), I'm a whole lot more patient. This stitching pace? It's just the right speed for thirty-six year old me.

But thirty-six year old me noticed something else different. Sitting and stitching in front of the woodstove one afternoon with the whole family reading and playing games nearby, it finally dawned on me as I put the hoop down on my lap and admitted - to myself and everyone else - "I can't see these stitches!!"

Which was promptly and silently met with rolling eyes from everyone in the room (I swear Annabel did it too), the people who have been telling me this very thing for a while now. I just, well, I didn't believe them.

Nor did I believe the optometrist when she sent me on my way home from my very first eye exam with a prescription for bifocals. Of course, it wasn't until I slipped on those new glasses of mine and looked at the world right in front of my nose that I finally believed them.

Because people, have you seen how crisp the leaves are on the trees? Did you know that all of those signs on the side of the road are meant to be read from a distance? And my goodness, this linen I'm stitching on? The holes are distinct and clear and the floss as sharp as can be. Tiny stitches that I can see.

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tiny stitches

A few weeks ago now, I received Alicia Paulson's lovely little cross stitch kit, Winterwoods ABC Sampler. Excitedly, I unwrapped all the parts and pieces. Diligently, I sorted and labeled all the floss colors. It's been years and years - since high school, I remembered - since I last did any cross stitch. This pretty little sampler seemed like just the thing to bring into winter with me.

As I dove into the sampler, I realized just how much was different since high school, since the last time I picked up a project like this. Most importantly, Alicia pulled some seriously beautiful materials (the verigated floss is just yummy) together with her gorgeous design, making it far nicer to work with than the craft store materials I remember using back in the day. And while my "free time" may be less these days than it was then, balancing that out quite nicely is that almost twenty years later (really?), I'm a whole lot more patient. This stitching pace? It's just the right speed for thirty-six year old me.

But thirty-six year old me noticed something else different. Sitting and stitching in front of the woodstove one afternoon with the whole family reading and playing games nearby, it finally dawned on me as I put the hoop down on my lap and admitted - to myself and everyone else - "I can't see these stitches!!"

Which was promptly and silently met with rolling eyes from everyone in the room (I swear Annabel did it too), the people who have been telling me this very thing for a while now. I just, well, I didn't believe them.

Nor did I believe the optometrist when she sent me on my way home from my very first eye exam with a prescription for bifocals. Of course, it wasn't until I slipped on those new glasses of mine and looked at the world right in front of my nose that I finally believed them.

Because people, have you seen how crisp the leaves are on the trees? Did you know that all of those signs on the side of the road are meant to be read from a distance? And my goodness, this linen I'm stitching on? The holes are distinct and clear and the floss as sharp as can be. Tiny stitches that I can see.

. . . . . . . .

Greetings! I'm Amanda Blake Soule - mother of five, author of three books on family creativity, and editor-in-chief of Taproot Magazine. I live with my family in an old farmhouse in Western Maine where we raise animals, grow vegetables and make lots of things. I write about it all here on the blog. Thank you for visiting!